Roger McGough's first attempt at turning Molière into a Mersey wit led to a giddy adaptation of Tartuffe that became one of the highlights of Liverpool's year of culture. Now he and director Gemma Bodinetz have teamed up again to apply the common touch to the playwright's final masterpiece.

There's no greater example of dramatic irony than the death of Molière, who was struck down by a bout of tuberculosis while playing the part of a man with a bit of a cough, and McGough cannot resist having some extratextual fun with this. In a prologue, we see Molière assuming the role of the psychosomatically afflicted Argan, while the flow of jaunty couplets includes a rumour picked up "from someone in the cast/ That tonight's performance could well be his last". McGough takes a variety of attitudes towards Molière, though reverence is not among them. The obsession with very public enemas gives the action the look of a 17th-century costume romp that could easily be re-titled Carry On Up the Colon.

Yet the pace and verve of Bodinetz's production never wavers, and is full of sharply realised performances. Clive Francis's crotchety Argan is an incorrigible martyr to his bowels, while Leanne Best is pleasing as the insubordinate maid Toinette. Conor Linehan's score contains some fol-de-rol themes you'll be humming for days. But that's the trouble with this hypochondria - it can be catching.